The Biography of A Greco-Roman
by Greca-Roma21
Summary: Greek and Roman Demigods have never gotten along. One person can change that. But to resolve 2 millennia of bad blood, she has to be different from other demigods. She has to be Greco-Roman.
1. I'm Sorry

A/N: H-Hi! *ducks* NOBODY KILL ME! I just can't seem to get this story right. Who knows when I'll update. Who knows if I'll start over again. Enjoy this while it lasts.

Prologue: I'm Sorry.

I know why you're reading this. I am so, so sorry. You don't have to forgive me, and I probably deserve that, for not telling you. This is my last gift to you. The full written account. Everything, every word, every thought. I hope you understand.

It started as it ended. With Fate.

Fate decreed that Chaos would give way to Order. From Order would spring all things.

Fate decreed that Oranus would be king, until the time came when he was overthrown by one of his sons. And though he tried to prevent that outcome,Fate'swords came to pass.

Fate gave the same warning to Kronos, overthrower of Oranus, and he too tried to thwart them. He failed, and our parents reigned.

All was good. All was well. But the Fates knew it would not remain so. They saw that Kronos would rise again, and that Gaea would bring forth her giants once more. They also knew that, when both those threats fell into slumber once more, a third would  
rise from an even deeper grave. Chaos would seek to reign, to destroy all of Order.

This could not happen.

And so, they began to create a being that would defeat Chaos, who could control the power of Order, and who could keep the family of the gods, both Greek and Roman, together. This being would be the perfect middle ground, neither one, nor the other, but  
both in perfect union. The Greco-Roman. But you know this already. You know that I, Alana Martins, am the Greco-Roman.

But this is the story you've never heard. 

My mother's name was Savannah, and she was a starving artist. She hoped and prayed for the talent to make it big in Nashville, to become the singer she had always wanted to be. And that is how she summoned my father, Apollo.

He came to her and gave her inspiration, he became her muse. And when he left at the end of the summer, she had her career. And she had me.

She named me. She raised me. And all the while, she sang. Eventually, she fell in love with a mortal man, Evan, who had a younger son. They bonded over their music and their lost loves, and remarried. I gained an older brother, and we lived happily ever  
after.

Who am I kidding? You know we didn't.

What comes next is hard. I want to tell you everything, to make sure none of it is ever forgotten again. But you know how hard that is. My brain and memories have been scrambled a few too many times, I'm not sure what is real or not anymore. But someare  
too harsh not to be real.

When I look back to my farthest memory, the scene comes in fragments.

Fire and smoke and screams, those comes first. 

Then pain, not of the physical world but, the pain of a broken heart.

The feeling of being abandoned, that there should be someone holding me telling me it's all right.

Finally the picture blurs into focus. 

The burning wrecks and people in blue and yellow.

A lady in light blue is sitting next to me in the van I am in. She asks me if anything hurts or if I am dizzy. Words are lodged in my throat so I shake my head. _No_.

My eyes are fixed on a three figures in dark blue loading black bags into the back of another white van but this one without the lights, simply marked with the black symbols someone was teaching me, letters, words.

Years later I discovered that the word was Coroner.

" _Mama_ " My voice is hoarse but I call for my family. The lady next to me turns her head.

" _Mama? Evan, Bobby?_ " They were with me in that twisted wreck that was a car, Mama and Step-papa Evan and big half-brother Bobby.

The woman's eyes are sad and her voice is hushed when she says. " _I'm so sorry, Alana, but they aren't coming back._ " I was barely five years old, completely and utterly alone in the world.

The next few memories are easier to remember, but not by much. After the crash I went to a lot of foster homes, none of them nice. I was still small, almost seven, and I didn't understand why this family was so mean to each other or to me.

I find myself staring at grey walls. My back is pressed against a door. Yelling, crashing and the sound of fists on flesh echo from outside. I am praying that he will forget I am here this time, that he won't hit me again. But then I see it,  
a flash of hope at my window.

My guardian angel, Sunny. He holds a finger to his lips and beckons me to the open window. He looks like sunshine made into a person, golden skin, bright yellow hair, crystal eyes that sparkle. I am pale and sickly, compared to him, I am a leaf, fallen  
from the tree. Brown and lost and oh so breakable.

" _Do you want to leave Laney?_ "His words were the answer to every prayer I had. I nod furiously. He smiles and lifts me up and out of the bad house.

A lady in silver smiles at me and takes my hand. Looking up at her with adoration, I ask, " _Are you another angel_?" 

Her brow furrows and she narrows her eyes at Sonny " That's what you told her we are?" Sunny shrugs and smiles. He does that a lot, like he doesn't know anything. I don't trust it. 

She kneels and looks me in the eye. " _Child, I am no angel. I am a Goddess. Artemis, Lady of the Moon and your aunt. And that man there_ ," She nods to Sunny. " _Is your father, Apollo, the God of the Sun._ " 

That word, that real, prefect frightening word. Father. Like step-father? Evan who was sweet and gentle and kind and gave me candy and let me ride on his shoulders? Or like foster father? The man in the house, the other men who came before him, cruel  
and throwing things at me? I watch him carefully, this 'father' of mine. 

Apollo frowns, briefly, and I flinch. Then he waves he had over my head, making a shower of sparkles fall down around me. Now he smiles and hold out his arms. I run and fall into his embrace. This is right. What was I afraid of? How could I be afraid  
of him? 

"We are going to take you home Alana" Apollo, Father, whispers in my hair. 

I pull back, horrified, "People say that my home!" I point to the low grey house. "Don't want to go back!" I am prepared to run and scream and bite my way out if I need to. 

He shushes me and more sparkles fill the air. "You are coming to my home and you will never have to come back here, ever." I smile and we disappear from the brown yard. 

This is where I enter a grey area, grey but filled with so much sparkling light. Memories become distorted and shine in rainbow colors, like oil on water. There is happiness and lessons and love. But also hidden things, despair and loneliness. I wish  
I knew the truth, of what really happened before the day I was taken from my father's side and placed back into the world that had left me orphaned. That day is the only thing that is clear. My tenth birthday, two and a half years since leaving that  
terrible grey house of yelling and crying. 


	2. Happy Birthday to You

A/N: For first time readers, _**Bold Italics**_ are Greca's thoughts, she's Alana's Greek side. _**Underlined Bold Italics **_ are Roma's thoughts, she's the Roman side. Plain ol' _Italics_ are Alana's thoughts. (All fixed! Hope the missing underline didn't mess to many people up. PS: Be on the look out for another chapter in a bit.)

Chp.1: Happy Birthday to You.

My birthday dawned bright and clear, a lovely spring day. I rose at seven, just like every day, in the room my father set aside for me, in his palace on Olympus. It's big for a ten-year-old, with a queen-sized bed, a walk-in closet, and a full grand piano for music lessons. _My father is so generous._ I'm quick to hop out of bed and rush to find clothes.

 _It's my birthday!_ I shriek and sing the words, letting them bounce around in my head.

 _ **Yes, Alana, we know.**_ Smiling, Greca sweetly calms me, like an older sister. Secretly she's as excited as I am.

 _ **You've only said it half a dozen times since yesterday.**_ Arms crossed, stern oldest sister, Roma manages a smile. She doesn't like to celebrate that much, but will allow me and Greca to be as silly as we want. That is until Greca and her's shaky truce crumbles to dust and I am left with a pounding head and a soured day.

Greca and Roma are my constant companions, and they live in my head. (I was six when I named them so don't laugh.) Just like the two sides of the Gods that they represent, they don't get along very well and fight a lot. This causes nausea, confusion, and headaches, lots of headaches. Artemis believes that with meditation and balance of my own mind, they can be controlled and I can have peace. So, I spend an hour a day listening to these two yell and scream and basically give me a migraine. And unfortunately, even though it's my birthday, I can't get out of practice. Artemis simply won't allow it.

There is no special breakfast or birthday song serenade waiting for me this morning, but I know both will come later. After training and lessons, tonight at dinner, I'll get my presents, one in gold paper from my Father and one in silver from Artemis. I'll also get my special birthday cake, angel's food with lemonade icing like every year. I find my shoes, settled in a neat line on the floor of the closet, and snag my bow and quiver of arrows as I head out the door. I can't wait for tonight!

Archery is my first class in the morning, practicing my form, aim and concentration. Greca and Roma stay quiet, respecting my training as it could save our lives one day. They are also near-silent during hand-to-hand combat practice and as I go through my basic sword fighting forms. The silence is welcome, but I begin to miss their chatter after a few more hours. By then it's lunch, a fast break for sandwiches and apples before my sit-down lessons. Normal school classes like Math, English, and Science come first. Then more practical lessons, Greek and Latin language classes, followed by Mythological History and Monster Identification. Greca and Roma get jittery in the stuffy classroom, making it even harder to understand the material. But finally, we head back outside for the most difficult lesson of the day. Meditation.

* * *

"Focus Alana"

My eyes are forced closed but I would know Artemis's voice anywhere. Through gritted teeth I say, "I'm trying." Greca and Roma's truce from this morning is very much gone by now and their fighting is making my head ache.

"No, you're not." My eyes snap open and I see her sitting in full lotus across from me.

"You try concentrating with these two trying to kill each other!" I scream.

She sighs. "What are they fighting about now?"

"I DON'T KNOW! I NEVER KNOW! YOU'RE THE GODDESS MAKE THEM SHUT UP!" I shout. The birds in the trees 100 feet away are startled and take off.

 _ **Great job Roma. Look what you did.**_ Greca taunts.

 _ **It's not my fault Greca! You were the one screamed, so it's your fault.**_ Roma replies snottily.

"Quiet you two." I rub my temples, trying in vain to stave off the impending migraine. Artemis sits calmly, for we have done this before.

"Done?" I nod sourly. "Again."

I take a huffy breath and close my eyes. I see the cool clearing and the pond. Greca, lithe and graceful, sits a ways away to my right and Roma, stocky and warlike, is on the left. Same as always. I project my thoughts to them.

 _I am calm, I am one, and you will behave._

 _ **Not until Roma apologizes.**_ Greca jumps to her feet and points accusingly.

 _ **For what?**_ Roma is defensive and glares at Greca. She crosses her arms.

 _Why does Roma need to apologize, Greca?_ My voice is low but they hear me.

 _ **She stole it, she, and those Romans. They need to give it back and apologize.**_ Greca draws a Celestial Bronze sword and Roma follows suit with her Imperial Gold one.

 _ **We didn't take it you lying Greek**_ _ **!**_ Now they are fighting and shouting at each other and I am caught in between. This continues for mere moments but my head is soon pounding like it will burst.

"What do they say Alana?" Artemis's voice breaks the scene and I fade back to reality.

I open my eyes, rubbing them to soothe my aching head. "Greca thinks Roma stole something. They won't say what it is but it's important."

She nods, lost in thought for a moment before remembering me. Standing she gives a final order, "Today's meditation lesson is over. Dinner is in one hour. Don't forget about your homework." Then, just like that, she is gone, typical behavior for a goddess.

I stand and stretch my muscles, looking around. This place is so familiar but it always takes my breath away. Lush green gardens and neat stone paths stretch for miles. A few statues of my father and Artemis stand at different intervals. The patio we use for meditation looks over a deep blue pool. I wave goodbye to the water spirits in the pond, they splash water back at me. I take a stroll through the gardens before heading back though the palace to my room, home sweet home. I throw open the door and kick off my shoes. Greca and Roma are still arguing but it has dissolved into a 'who Alana/Apollo/Artemis likes better' squabble. Their voices are fading, thank the gods.

 _Please guys. We only have thirty minutes until dinner. Just… Try and hold it together. Please?_ They grumble back, but get quieter still.

I work on my homework for only a few minutes before I get distracted. My piano is calling my name. Father didn't have the time for Music lessons today, so I never got to work the music out of my brain. I sit on the bench, sifting through the sheets of notes and clefs and graceful flowing music. I play a few songs, Beethoven, Mozart, letting the music carry me away.

In my mind Greca and Roma finally halt their battle of words, sit on their respective sides of the pond, and listen, just listen. This is the only time they will just let me be, other than training. Music continues to pour from my finger tips and I find a measure of peace.

* * *

Now it is nearly six, only minutes until dinner. I spin in front of the full-length mirror, letting a giggle or two escape as the skirt tickles my calves. My birthday dinner is the only time I get to wear a dress, and I take full advantage of it. The tea-length gown is purple and light blue, with silver threads running through the silk. It is flowy and girly and completely impractical. I love it. Slipping into a pair of pretty slippers, I twirl my way down the hall, dancing to music only Greca, Roma, and I can hear.

My birthday dinner is held in a little dining room, with a table just big enough for four place settings. Me, Artemis, Apollo, and my mother. My mother, who died just after my birth, just after giving my name. She knew of my fate as Greco-Roman, Apollo told me, before anyone else did, which is why she gave me a name meaning harmony in her ancestors' language. Apollo doesn't have any pictures of her, remembering makes him sad, but he's said I look just like her. That makes me happy, as does her place setting at my birthday party. She's here in spirit.

I finish my dance in front of the dining room door with a curtsey to my imaginary partner. My little hands reach up to pull the giant door handles, but the doors start to move before I touch them. It's strange, but Father does have a flair for the dramatics. I smile widely and walk gracefully into the room, head held high, like Artemis taught me. The room is decorated like it is every year, streamers of purple and blue, shiny silver balloons on gold strings. But it's bigger than years past, stretched longer and wider to accommodate a long table.

 _This isn't right. There's only supposed to be four of us._

 _ **Surely, he wouldn't have changed the plans.**_

 _ **Unless he's decided to invite some of the dryad children!**_ Greca is giddy at the prospect of making new friends, so I keep the smile on my face.

"Father? Artemis? I'm here!" I say, singing the last part to an un-nameable tune. Many bright flashes make me cover my eyes. I blink away the spots and look around, wishing I could run.

Standing in the middle of my father's hall are The Big Three and the rest of The Olympians.

"Alana come here." My father's voice is strained and I rush to his side. As I cross the floor I can feel the eyes following me, and for the first time since I arrived here, I am frightened. I stand as tall as I can in front of Apollo, his hands on my shoulders as he introduces me to the people who have ruled the world since before humanity. And every single one has a reason to kill me. They have pasted on smiles, so fake that I expected them to peel of their faces at any moment. Even my father and Artemis seem to be faking joy, stress sneaking through the cracks.

"Happy Birthday, dear little Greco-Roman!" Zeus says, his beard like a storm cloud with snapping electricity running through it. At his proclamation, music bursts from the walls and confetti falls from the ceiling. The rest of the Olympians smile and everyone takes a seat at the long table.

 _I don't understand._

 _ **Why are they here, Roma?**_

 _ **Be calm you two. Relax. This is a party. They won't hurt us.**_

Taking a breath, I take a seat between my father and Artemis.

Dinner is the same as last year, just bigger and far more quiet. I poke at the food on my

plate, even though it's my favorite I can't seem to stomach a single bite. The other Gods try to make polite conversation, ignoring the Alana-sized elephant in the room. I'm not supposed to exist. I'm not supposed to be living with my father. There are probably a hundred other things I'm not supposed to know or do or be, all of them death sentences.

Finally, Hera slams her hands down on to the table, making it shake and a swirl of rainbow colored power tinges the air around her. "Speak, all of you. There is no time for niceties."

Apollo sighs. "I have only done what is best for her. They would have sent her to a foster home, if I hadn't intervened. Someone had to collect her."

Zeus nods, "That is understood. But you should not have kept her here on Olympus. She should be at camp."

Artemis comes to her twin's defense. "Which camp Father? Camp Jupiter? The Romans are suspicious and would have cast her out because of her differences. Camp Half-Blood? She would never learn her Roman heritage. She would be too Greek. This was the only solution at the time."

Athena stands, immediately calling everyone's attention. "And now there is a new one. I have discovered a way to separate her Greek and Roman halves. She will be able to attend both camps with no suspicion."

A gasp escapes me and all twelve heads turn to me. Did they forget I was here?

"Have you heard every word we've said?" My aunt asks.

"Yes, Aunt Artemis. What is wrong?" I say, suddenly feeling very very small.

"You taught her the Common language?" Zeus thunders. "That is forbidden!" I want to dive under the table, but Roma's bravery roots me in place.

Apollo stands to face his father. "I taught her nothing! This is not my doing."

As Zeus's eyes pass to my Aunt, she throws her hands up. "Don't look at me. I did not teach it to her."

Athena sends a wave of grey-tinged magic around the table. "Enough. Everyone sit back down. This is no one's fault, Father. Common language is her birthright. She knows it in the same way Greek Demigods know Greek and Roman Demigods know Latin." The rest of the table settles again.

 _Common Language?_

 _ **It must be the original language, from before there were humans.**_

 _ **Freaky…**_

Straightening his pinstriped suit, Zeus addresses Athena again. "Now. What is this discovery you have made?"

Athena stands, hands folded behind her back and speaks clearly. "There is not much literature on the Greco-Roman, but one text states that the first, the one created from clay by the Fates, could send one spirit out of her body, to be in two places at once. The technique was called _Simultaneous Lives_. (Here Athena used a in Common Language that has no direct translation into English. This is the best fit.) I can teach it to the girl. All we would need is a suitable host." The Gods are intrigued, and mutter amongst themselves.

Nerves bubble up inside me, and I take a large bite of food to distract myself. There's really no reason to be nervous, though. I trust my father, and Artemis, of course. They've raised me, keep me safe. And the Gods, they are goodness personified, beating back the evil Titans, and freeing the Earth. They will make a good decision.

I am sent from the room before they decide. I leave with a curtsey and keep my head down. Everything will be all right, because it is in the God's hands.

* * *

I spend the next few hours fighting boredom in my room. I start in on my homework again, but the girls are chattering brightly about their camps. They can't wait to see them, see if all the stories we've heard at father's knee will be true. So, I try music again, and watching a Disney movie. Nothing quiets their voices or dampers their enthusiasm. Finally, Father sends a dryad to fetch me.

"The Lord Apollo wishes you to change. Training clothes, miss." Tamara, the guardian of an oak tree, hurries me along. Tee-shirt, cargo pants, hiking boots. The dress is thrown back into the closet and the slippers land in the umbrella stand. I scramble to find a spare sock and to shove arrows back into my quiver. The noise in my skull reaches a precipice. We're going to camp!

Father and Artemis intercept my mad dash with wide smiles and bright packages. "Before you go." Artemis says in her soft-sweet way. Buried in silver is a bangle bracelet, carved with an ancient runic language. It feels warm in my hand. "That's a Common Language incantation carved in. 'Protect me and guard me, shield me from all harm'." Artemis explains, sliding it up my arm. "When you wear it, you are protected. And when you spin in around your wrist…" She gives the band of metal a spin, and a glow erupts from it, spreading over me. In the glow's wake is a jump suit of armor, light as air. The same runes are now spread over my body, on my legs and arms and back. "To turn it back..." Three taps on my inner wrist, right over a swirling pictogram. The glow starts again and the armor is gone, only the bangle remains. Artemis's moonlight eyes meet mine, "Let it always protect you, just as I have."

Father's gift is in gold, as always. A chain bracelet, decorated with lovely charms. "Each one is a spell, a protection. Once you put it on, it will never fall off, unless you undo the clasp. And look," He takes one of my twin blades from my arms and touches it to the chain. It shrinks and attaches it to the chain. "Now you will never lose your weapons." I pull away the blade-charm and feel it grow in my hand. Together we add the two blades, and the bow and quiver to the bracelet. He secures it around my wrist, just below the bangle. "May you always remember that I am with you."

The rest of the council is waiting in the garden. They smile at me, and I smile back. I get to go to camp! They part and let me walk right up to Athena. "I have prepared a vessel. A clay copy for one half of your soul. Come and see." She ushers me towards a… Me. The clay figure has my hair and eyes and my facial features and even the funny little scar near my collar bone. _This is just too weird. But who cares? I'm going to camp!_

I am instructed to stand facing the clay copy-twin. Her blue eyes are flat and empty like glass. Athena places a hand on my head and chants. The same grey power from before swirls around her and enters my head. My eyes close and I can see the pond were Greca and Roma reside. It is tinged in grey and I can hear Athena's voice.

 _One of you must come with me._ Greca and Roma look at each other suddenly scared. I don't want them to leave, I've changed my mind. They glow, bright like the magic from the bangle, but shiny gold, like the sun.

 _Stop fighting me Alana! It is time to let go!_ But I can't I won't. The gold shines brighter and brighter and I start to feel hot.

 _She's going to burn up! This has to stop. Quickly…_ Roma snaps to attention and edges away from Greca. _**Alana! I'm going, you have to let me go, okay? You're not strong enough to keep this up.**_

Greca flies towards her sister, locking her arms around Roma. _**You're not leaving us alone! Please!**_ Athena's magic pulls harder against the pair and the gold fails. Their arms slip, and the wind takes her away, leaving us screaming. _Come back! Come back!_

But it is too late.

Roma is gone.


	3. A Greek and A Roman

A/N: Well this is awkward. Been awhile, huh? So, here we are. New chapter. And a question. How do you think 'Alana' is pronounced? I say it A-Lay-na (Shortened, Lay-na, rhymes with Reyna.) , but google says Uh-La-na (Shortened, La-na, rhymes with Nana). Thoughts?

Chp.2 A Greek and a Roman.

My eyes fly open. Greca's, my tears stain my face. Her feelings are mine, for I am no longer Alana, but Greca. A twin without her other half.

"Roma?" My strangled voice calls, but I am alone in the dark. Not even the gods remain. The only thing I can see is the lit gas lantern a few feet away. I crouch by in and try to put myself back together. Roma's mantra for tough times fills my head. _I am strong. I am a fighter. I can survive this._ I repeat it three times. Once and my tears stop, twice and I stop shaking, thrice and I am calmed. _Thank you Roma._

As I reach up to brush some of my hair out of my face I notice a glint around my wrist. The charm bracelet, still heavy with charms. I was left with the bracelet, but not my sister? I said I changed my mind, I wanted to stay whole. Anger rises up in me and I unclasp the bracelet and throw it. _Stupid gods. Stupid birthday. Stupid -_ There is a gentle tinkling sound, like fine chain or tiny bells. I look down at my wrist; there lies the bracelet. _Father said that I can never lose it._

I spin it gently looking at each charm. The clear crystals. The Greek words. Twin, Mist, Strength, Memory. Near the clasp are the odd charms, the ones Father helped me add. One, a tiny bow crossed with a single arrow. The next a miniature short sword. And a backpack. Father did his best to provide for this journey. My fingers curl around the pack and snap the link that holds it to the bracelet. I pull my hand back, looking at the charm in my hand, no bigger than my pinky nail. Now that is is separate from the magic chian, it swells in size. It grows to fill my palm and even farther, becoming heavier as it goes. I drop it to the ground where it continues to grow until a full size pack sits at my feet.

I tear through it. Clipped over the top is a bed roll; pillow, sleeping bag, thick

blanket. Freeze dried food, two weeks worth. Three water bottles, gloriously full, all marked with an Olympian sigil. Shirts, pants, socks, underthings, four days of clothes, plus the set I'm wearing. First aid kit, with demigod amenities, nectar and ambrosia. A whetstone. A survival knife. Matches and a fire kit. A map of New York State and a compass. Finally at the bottom a note in my father's handwriting.

 _My dearest Alana,_

 _I am sorry for how the others reacted today, they don't understand how much I care for you. But they do have a point. It pains me to send you away like this, but it is time for you to start on your path. You are more important than you realise. One day, you will be the hero your mother and I always thought you would be. Your first step, the first of many, is to find Camp Half-Blood and learn how to be a perfect little Greek. Your sister, Roma, is safe and on her own journey to Camp Jupiter. When you are ready, we will bring you back together._

 _Love, Dad_

"I knew he didn't want this! I'll go to Camp, I'll be the best camper ever! Then they'll have to give Roma back!" I clutch the letter close and let the joy give me hope. I repack the bag and turn to the sky. The half moon still hangs in the sky, meaning it is still my birthday. Judging by the angle of the moon and the clarity of the stars, it is nine at night. I lay out the bed roll near the lantern, arm myself with the knife and curl into a ball. It is cold and I whimper, missing Roma's laugh and her warmth and even her crazy strictness. One more tear escapes my eye, wetting the pillow, before I drift away into sleep.

I dream of Roma, cold and lost, but soldiering on. In the dream, she is in my place, acting

and reacting like me, but not. She does not cry or whimper or shake. She picks up the lantern and marches off into the darkness. After a while Roma stops, tired and thirsty and cold. I know this because I can feel it. I feel it as if it were me in that place, in that time. I find myself wondering if this is what all twins dream of, or if this is just a trick my mind is playing on my weak heart. I watch over Roma for the rest of the night. I watch as she spins her armour bangle, arms herself with the blade from her charm bracelet. I watch as she soldiers on for hours more before dropping with exhaustion, barely having the strength to pull the pack under her head before passing out. Then there is a whoosh of air and my mind starts to spin wildly.

Then I wake, sprawled on the hard ground, dawn brushing the horizon in gold. I repack the bag again, slip the survival knife into my belt, double check the water and food rations. Before I leave the makeshift camp, I send up a tiny prayer. _Be safe Roma. I hope I dream of you again._

* * *

Walking, with only a state map to guide me, I try to find a road or a highway, anything that would tell me where I am on the huge folding map. All I see are deep woods and soft moss and there are no sounds other than wind and birds and animals. It's a picture perfect day for a walk in the woods. Still something has my nerves on edge. There's a buzz at the back of my skull, a feeling in my stomach that has my arms prickling with gooseflesh.

I fold the map up small, shove it in my pocket and tap a thoughtful finger against the sheath of the hunting knife. It's 6 inches long, made of steel, with a serrated edge. Enough to defend against mortals and animals, useless against immortals and monsters. The miniature sword on the bracelet, only half of my matched set, but it will have to do. I pull the charm from the chain, feeling the connecting link snap. Curled in my fist I can feel the blade grow, longer, it's sharp blade covered in a leather sheath. _Thank the Gods._ I readjust my grip, finding the leather wrapped hilt and squeezing with all my might. Comfort flows through me. With a Godly blade in my hand, I am unstoppable, I am a warrior just like my sister. _I can do this. I'll make it to Camp, train hard and make Roma and Father proud._

I shrug off the heavy pack and swing the strap of the sheath over my shoulder, letting it cross my body in a comfortable diagonal. The sword settles between my shoulder blades and the hilt peeks up over the edge of the pack. I can easily reach it if I'm attacked. Determined and filled with courage, I pick a direction and walk.

Not long after, the weird feeling intensifies. I stalk quietly across the mossy ground, archer eyes watching for any movement any odd shapes in the dappled light of the forest. There's something out here with me, hunting me. _You are the hunter, the monster slayer. They will not take you._ Artemis's words fill my mind. This ends now.

In the next open clearing, I stop. After checking the forest floor for rocks and soft spots and hidey holes, I hide my pack in a hollow and I take my position in the center. My eyes drop to my wrist, the bangle, the bracelet. I spin the silver circle around my wrist, whispering the prayer carved around it exterior, and watch as the grey-silver armour appears. I pull the the last odd charm from the bracelet. As I expected my bow and quiver grow to full size in my hand. I smile down at them in joy, before slinging the quiver over my shoulder. It settles just below the sheath of the sword, just like when I would practice at home. The bow stays in my hand, held tight, against my hip. The leather grip is molded to my fingers, so familiar and safe. Just above the grip is a graceful craving. Whorls and spirals, etched into the wood with an arrowhead when I was bored. _This is right, natural. I'm ready._ Selecting an arrow from the quiver on my back, I notch it but don't draw the bow, waiting, waiting, waiting, for the monster to come into view. _No more running, Alana._

The brush in front of me rustles. Back and forth, it shifts. Something is working hard to get through the vegetation. _It's big then. And heavy. Good._ Big means more targets. Heavy means slow. All my advantages, the only problem is I still don't know what in Hades this thing is.

I pull the bow up and the string back, touching the two draw fingers and the edges of the fetching to the corner of my mouth. In my right hand, the bow is level and steady, the arrowhead deadly sharp.

I muster up bravado from somewhere and yell, "I know you've been following me. This is your last chance. Leave now or be sent back to the Pit!" My eyes scan the brush again and I start to relax, because I can sense it moving away, the tension in my stomach easing. But in another second, I am surrounded. There are too many, coming too fast. Creature after creature, monsters of all kinds, pour out of the trees.

I turn tail and run, barely having time to snag the strap of my bag with two fingers before sprinting for the trees. The arrow I notched has fallen, lost in my rush, but I still have my quiver and, if all fails, my sword. The pack bangs loudly against both of them, making a terrible clatter. The monsters are howling, raging through the forest after me. Ahead there is open sky, no more trees, and the hum of traffic. _Thank the Gods._ While diving into traffic doesn't seem too appealing, it's better than being torn to bits by a horde of monsters. I put on some extra speed, pumping my arms and hoping my feet fall on steady ground. I can see the clear blue, see the jeweled tops of cars as they pass by. What I don't see is the shadow on the ground ahead of me, too malformed to be a cloud. As I pass under it, something shrieks and razor talons scrabble for purchase on my armoured shoulders.

The harpy pulls me up and off the ground, her claws circled under my armpits. Looping my arm through my bow so it stays with me, I wrap my hands around the harpy's legs and pull up, lessening the pressure on my shoulder joint. She cackles with her human mouth and though I can't see it, her face must be contorted in ugly glee.

"Food." She crows, "Fresh food for me." _I can't let that happen. I have to get back to Roma._ I dare a glance down and take in the two lane farm road, the beautiful groves and fields. This could be Anywhere, USA, though according to my map it is somewhere in New York. I watch carefully, eyes bouncing between the ground and the belly of the harpy. I'm hoping for water, a lake preferably. At this height, a scant thirty or so feet, water will cushion my fall enough so I can walk (or run as it may be) away. If not.. *splat*

My forearms start to shake about ten minutes later, my fingers haven long ago grown numb. Water or not, I'm falling soon. And even if I survive the fall, I won't make it far. I'm too weak, stupid me forgot to eat this morning. The harpy still cackles above me, but it seems more forced now, as if she's playing a part she despises. Then, her claws are slipping and I am falling and there is wind rushing by my face. There's no time to brace before I hit the ground, no time to pray. I feel myself falling those last feet, striking the ground, and then sinking.

There is water, hard and unyielding, then suffocating. My legs don't work, my arms are numb. Vaguely I can see my bow slipping off my arm and lazily floating away. _Well if THAT'S how you react to a monster_ , it seemed to say, _you don't deserve me. I'd rather rot._ My lungs cramp for air, and my mind is going, going, going. Going blank, going dark.

Then there are hands, warm and big, grasping my shoulders-oh that hurts-and hauling me upwards. There is air in my lungs and I sputter. There is wood under me, a voice calling out, "It's okay, you're okay."

There is light and a face, gold and blue, pinched. "Easy there, girl. Deep breaths."

The face turns, showing a big nose and sticking out ears. "Alright guys, row! She needs to get to shore. Up, down. Push, pull. That's it." He sounds proud, this boy in the boat. When he looks at me face on again, I can see me, see Dad in his features. _Demigod? Camp? Thank the gods._ I rest my cheek on the bottom of the boat, and wait for the rowers to reach land.

The scrape of wood against sand comes sooner than I'd like. The rowers must be jumping out, their feet strike the sand with wet thuds and there is more dragging as they pull the boat forwards. The hands are back on my shoulders and I whimper, pitiful and broken. "Sorry girlie. Gotta get you up."

I don't want to get up, I don't want to open my eyes. I want my sister, and my Dad and my Aunt. I sniffle and moan, "I want to go home." I am pulled and prodded none the less, out of the boat, on to the beach, up a hill, across a green lawn and into a wide long room. There are beds here, separated by sheets of flowing white something.

"Right here. Sit down. There we are." I sit like a doll, let the hands do what they will. I'm so tired. The hands take my pack from me, ease the quiver and the sword off my back, even pulls the boots from my feet. There's a light in my eyes and a new set of hands, smaller and somehow infinitely warmer than the first, touches my shoulders gently, and peels the collar of my shirt away to look at them.

"Looks like she's just bruised up pretty bad." That's a girl's voice, sweet and clear. "It could've been much worse."

"Pupil dilation is fine, but she look exhausted." The boy from the boat turns off the light, and with calm soothing words, speaks to me. "You can sleep now, okay. You're safe."

I want to, so badly, I just want to drift away and pretend this was all a nightmare. But something won't let me. A noise, a jangling of notes and bells and strings. It grows and grows and there's light there too. Golden light and song, both strong and warm and … healing. And for an instant, I can see it. My father's shape, against the light, his hands on my shoulders, healing the muscles and tendons. Giving me energy. My eyes snap closed an instant before the light becomes too much, before it can burn me. When they open again, the light, the noise, Apollo, it's all gone. But I am dry and healed and fine. My hair has been neatly braided, my weapons thoughtfully polished, my bow returned. And the two people, the girl and the boy who were attending me, look on with knowing smiles.

"Hello, little sister. Welcome to Camp Halfblood." The girls says. She must be my sister, being so like Apollo. She has his perfect smile, his smooth tan and thick straight golden hair. The boy could be my brother, but he is paler, covered in freckles and his eyes are a startling green, instead of blue. _Brother. Sister. I have siblings._ I can hardly believe it.

The boy backs off a bit, dragging his sister with him. "SInce she's alright, I think we should get Chiron."

"But Lee..." The girl whines. "Can't we keep her to ourselves a little longer?"

"You will have all the time in the world, Hanah. And besides, I am already here." This new voice is kindly, and weathered almost. It belongs to the man in the wheelchair, by the door. I don't know his name, but know that I should. Roma was always better at names.

"Well, Miss. You certainly have a flair for the dramatics. That entrance alone would have made me suspect Apollo, but the glow proves it." The man in the wheelchair smiles and it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. "I am Chiron, and I am the activities director for the Camp. This is the Head Counselor for Cabin 7, Lee Fletcher and his sister, Hannah, the Head Medic."

I let the names echo in my head, committing them to memory. _Lee. Hannah. Chiron. Family._ "I'm Alana Martins. I just turned seven!"

"Well then, if you're well enough, Lee and I can take you on a tour, starting with our Cabin. I think you'll love it!" Hannah gushes and I nod so hard my eyeballs start to shake.

* * *

The Camp feels huge. There are woods and fields and orchards, and of course, the lake that I fell in. Hannah leads me out of the Infirmary, which is on the ground floor of the Big House. "It's where all the serious stuff happens. Meetings, healings, calls home, stuff like that." Hannah says. "We, that is Children of Apollo, run the Infirmary most of the time, so you'll probably end up spending a lot of time here."

Hannah takes me to the Green, where all the Cabins are. In the middle there's a great big fire, and a couple flowerbeds and a basketball court. She points out the different Cabins, one for each cabin. "Gods on this side. Goddesses on the other." Lee chimes in and then takes the lead, taking us right into the Cabin made of gold. Faintly I can see a 7 and a Sun on the door, but their hard to see in the glow.

Inside it's all warm wood and white cloth. Except of course for the one wall covered in paint, or the corner piled with instruments, or the ceiling that is covered in targets and suction-cup arrows. My other siblings are here, talking and painting and singing and dancing on a sky blue woven rug. They don't notice us at first, but Lee whistles, loud and shrill, and they all stop.

"Hey, Lee. Isn't that the girl we fished out of the Lake?" One boy, absently wrapping an ace bandage around his wrist, stares at me funnily while talking.

'This is Alana. She's one of us." Lee puts a hand on my shoulder as I smile and wave. There are a couple others about my age, ace-bandage-boy is one of most are older, by a little, or a lot. And Lee is the oldest, at least, they all listen to him like he's the oldest.

"There's an empty bunk next to mine!" A girl with an archery tee, shots her hand into the air. "Can she have it Lee? Please please please?"

Lee sighs and smiles, an odd combination, but one that says 'This happens all the time. It's annoying, but she is too cute to say no too.' "Fine," He says. "But if you stay up past lights out talking again, I will not cover for you with Chiron."

"Yay!" She hops up and takes my backpack over to the empty bunk. "I'm Kayla. You will be my friend. Okay?"

Kayla is bouncy and excitable, and is my buddy during activities. She guides me through our schedule, when we go to the different pavilions and what we do there. Some of the older kids keep checking on me, making sure I understand the lesson or the activity. They do that with all the younger ones. It feels nice to have someone looking out for me.

I never tell anyone about Dad or Artemis. I try of course, but the story that comes out is not mine. When Lee asks me at dinner, after training and eating so much my stomach hurt. I say, "My Momma raised me, she was wonderful, and pretty and smelled good. She had a good voice. She died and Dad found me, gave me my stuff and sent me here." It's not true, I know that, but it's all that comes out. But I suppose it's for the best. No one comes to Camp after spending their entire lives with their Godly Parent. Apollo must just be trying to make sure I fit in.

After the sing-along (my favorite thing so far), we head back to the Cabin and everyone gets ready for bed. Kayla shows me where the showers are and the hot water feels great. "If you'd like to keep the hot showers, we need to win Capture the Flag again on Friday." Lee says when we get back. He gives a few more announcements, mainly about tomorrow's schedule of activities and then calls lights out.

I lay there for a long time, because even though I'm tired, I'm wondering. What will I dream of? Roma? Or something else? There is a pull at the back of my mind, and I wonder about that too. Is that Roma, thinking of me? Finally, my brain says, _I don't care. I'm going to bed._ And I sleep.

* * *

I do not dream of Roma.

I wake as Roma.

She is back in those woods, she is alone and cold and pissed. There are wolves trailing her. She can hear them howl. But she is not afraid. The wolves are not her enemy. She, we, are connected to them, as the ancients were.

Roma meets the Mother Wolf, Lupa, Guardian of the Romans, Like Chiron is the Guardian of the Greeks. "You must train with me." Lupa says, in English, Latin, Common Language and a dozen more. Her voice whispers with the languages of the past. "Train with me. Prove your strength. Then I will send you along." Lupa does not say where Roma will go, but she knows that this, this is what she must do. Not just to see me again, but to become the Roman Father wants her to be. So she goes with Lupa, and they train, and at the end of the day, Roma collapses into sleep.

She too feels a pull and gladly accepts it. There is a whoosh and she is me, and I am her, and suddenly, I am awake.


	4. The Trident, The Fleece, and the Hunters

A/N: So this is where I start summarizing the series. This chapter is the first three books, Lightning Thief, Sea of Monsters and Titian's Curse, from Alana's perspective. (It is worth noting that by the events of Lightning Theif Alana is about 10 or 11.) If you think I have skipped over a detail that is important, please tell me. I'm doing this mostly from memory, but trying to keep this part as close to canon as possible, just with a different view. Also, I'm using BadWolfCosplay's version of the Camp beads, because I think they fit really well. Their on Esty for those who are interested.

Chapter 3: The Trident, The Fleece, and the Hunters.

My life at Camp Half-Blood, let's just say it was never uneventful. In the four years before Zeus's master bolt was stolen and Percy arrived at camp, I did what everyone did. Trained, studied, played music, and trained some more. I learned how to be a field medic from Will, how to be an excellent marksman from Kayla and Lee, how to sing like an angel and play instruments from Austin. I watched my siblings grow up and leave for College. Some came back, some didn't, but that was part of the life. Of course, being a demigod means nothing stays normal for long.

My headaches started the spring after I arrived at Camp. March 21st, an equinox, a day of perfect balance.

It was dawn, before anyone else was awake. I was woken from my careful watch of my Roman half by a harsh tug in my gut. _I knew I shouldn't have had the chili._

One stumbling trip to the bathroom later, the tug is only getting stronger. It travels up my spine, becoming a burning spike in my brain. There is a voice, demanding and shrill. _Awaken. Become. Awaken. Awaken. Awaken!_ My hands start to shake, scribing words into the air. _Write. Write. Write and see._

So I find a pen and take a piece of scrap from Rose's art supplies. _Yes, yes, yes. Write. See. Become._

* * *

I wake up in the infirmary, hand and eyes aching. There are bandages wrapped around my right hand, delicately, to cover every niche and cranny of the fingers, spotted red in some places. _Ow… What did I do?_ I try to flex the hand, and nearly cry out in pain. Hot points of fire reside on the pads my thumb and forefinger and even more intensely on the first bend of my third finger, right where a pen would rest. Every muscle aches, the wrist, the forearm, the shoulder.

"You're awake!" Kayla's voice is strangled and wet, she's been crying. Like that first night, she bounces over and lands in my cot, throwing her arms around me. I hiss when she bumps my arm and she pulls back immediately. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Oh, gods that croak. If only Austin could hear me now, he'd be so ashamed. He always says my voice is my best feature.

"Scoot, Kayla. She can't have visitors yet." Will comes out from behind the curtains. Kayla pouts, but slides off the bed and stomps away. He takes my bandaged hand, inspecting it thoroughly before the bandages come off. My hand is blistered and bloody, the joints of my fingers stiff and bruised and blue. Will tsks, and doles out a portion of nectar in a cup. "Drink, slowly."

I take measured sips, which alternate between cool lemonade and hot green tea, while my brother works on my hand. No, this is not Will, my brother, this is Will, the Medic. The blisters and sores slowly close up, and the bruises go away, but the Medic rubs in an ointment, working the joints as if I have arthritis.

"What did I do?" My voice is smoother now, and I can flex my hand, thanks to the nectar.

"You were writing, the same thing , over and over. Lee's with Chiron, tryin' to figure it out. You scared the hell outa me, Laney." I wince. It's my fault, making him worry. I'm a terrible sister. Before I can say so, Chiron and Lee part the curtain and step inside my cubicle, and Will takes that as his signal to leave. The curtain sways at his leaving, and slides a few inches, showing the busy Infirmary.

"Miss Martins, I am glad you're better. Can you tell us what happened?" Chiron's smile is bright and caring, and I tell him about my stomach ache, and the burning spike and the ache I had to write write write. Chiron looks pensive, and nods to Lee.

"This is what we found you with. Does it mean anything to you?" He hands me the scrap of paper, it's ripped and messy, and there is layer after layer of ink. The words are hard to find, under all that. But I can see the symbols, see that they mean something, I can make it out, I can…

Lee stops breathing. So does Chiron. Even my siblings in the room beyond them are still, like the Camp's biggest game of Freeze Tag. I panic for a minute, leaping off the cot to shake my brothers shoulders. A shower of golden glitter falls and I am calmed.

"Hello, my dear." With a smooth baritone, my father appears only a step away. Longing fills me.

"Papa!" I launch myself into Apollo's arms. "I missed you so much!"

"Don't I know it, SunBurst." I giggle and he touches my nose. "You've made me very proud, Alana. Me and Artemis and your mother, we are all so very proud of you."

"Does that mean I can have Roma back?" I sweeten my voice and make my eyes wide and pleading. That must be why he's here, to bring my sister back to me.

Apollo sighs, long and tired. "I'm afraid that the Council won't allow it. Roma has to train and learn, just as you do. Because the Greco-Roman must be both, in equal measure. Or something like that. If it were up to me, I'd put you back together and take you home." He's so sincere, so kind, so thoughtful. I'm so lucky to know him, to be his daughter. But….

"Then why are you here?" I'm disappointed I won't see my sister, but that is overridden but my curiosity. "My birthday isn't until summer. And Christmas was ages ago." It makes no sense for him to visit now.

"I know, but I wanted to see how you were doing. And of course, explain a few things." He plucks the paper, covered in my scribbles, from the cot. "This for example. I'm sorry my Gift caused you such pain, but it was a necessary evil."

"Your Gift? You sent me a present?" I never got anything, no box wrapped in gold, not even a card. Nothing came in the mail during Christmas. Nothing appeared miraculously at the end of my bed. I try and convey all of this without words, because I know I'll start babbling and Father hates babbling.

"This isn't a normal present. It's a power, one I rarely give anyone. But you are special to me, and you deserve it. I made you a Seer, an Oracle. This," He hands me the paper and awe struck, I let it rest in my cupped hands. "This is the first of your prophecies. There will be more, many many more. But you must never tell anyone what you see or hear or write. Promise me SunBurst, swear on the Styx. Or I'll have to take the Gift away."

"No! I swear!" I can't disappoint Apollo, not when he's been so kind and understanding.

Apollo has me recite a vow, makes me cover my heart, cross my eyes, wrinkle my nose and stick out my tongue. (The most serious promise an 8-year-old could make.) Then he smiles, just like he did when I made an especially hard shot with my bow. My vow was made, unbreakable. I was not to speak of my prophecies or my Gift or Apollo's visit, until the Second was healed and I met with the First. And then my prophecies would make the Circles whole.

* * *

It was my own little secret, my own prophecy. A puzzle for lazy days, or bored days or any day that lessons drug on too long. What were the Circles? Why was the Second broken, and how? Who was the First? The questions were all I could think about, that and the scraps of paper I scribbled on. I started pasting them into a journal I bought at the Camp store, making note of the date, and where I was when I wrote it. Eventually, I just carried the journal with me, and wrote in that whenever the itch took me.

Will, Lee and the rest forgot about my bleeding hand, my day in the Infirmary, the scrap of paper, and life went on. They ignored my journal, because it seemed like a pretty normal thing for a girl to have a diary. Once the Stolls tried to sneak it out of my trunk, but after I cursed them with Rhyme's Disease, they thought twice.

Years passed, and I trained and studied and learned and secretly wrote, though the prophecies became few and far between. I got my beads, strung them on my necklace with pride. I have the flaming trireme, from a mock-naval battle that went sideways during my first summer. There's a winged shoe on the second bead, for Luke's quest, the first in a decade. And silver arrow, for when the Hunters visited during my third year and beat us soundly at Capture the Flag. (Which is a tradition. Seriously. The world will probably end before the Hunters lose Capture the Flag.)

I watched over Roma, though I didn't understand most of what I saw. A blond boy falling off a siege tower, only to rise whooping seconds later, floating in midair. A stern Latina barking orders and looking regal in purple. A dark haired boy splattered in red and drinking from a goblet. More and more faces that Roma regarded like family. There was only one person she wasn't quite sure about. A scarecrow-y boy with straw hair and a very sharp knife. The word Augur floated in Roma's mind, but I didn't know what that meant.

Still I was glad to see her, strong and brash and wonderful. It helped with the loneliness. Soon though, I had more on my mind than prophecies and Roma.

* * *

The night of Percy's arrival, I wrote in my journal. But it was different this time, because I could see things. Symbols and colours and people. There was a trident, and waves and a boy in a dark blue chiton and a green peplos, wielding a glowing sword. Then the same boy in jeans and a t-shirt, with a pen of all things. _Him_ , the Voice crooned. _HE is part of this. He is one of the first. And the girl, of course._ Of all people, Annabeth, floated by my eyes, dressed first in ancient clothes, grey and olive green, and then as I saw her just hours before, Camp shirt and shorts, her dagger in hand. _Remember them, for they are a part of this. They are Yours._

Can you imagine my shock? Of course, things seem so much clearer in hindsight, because I now know exactly what that Voice meant, but back then… I was clueless. And the events of the next morning did not help at all.

The story of the boy, the unclaimed demigod, who defeated the Minotaur and saved his satyr from being eaten was rampant in the camp in the days before Percy woke up. People were antsy, everyone wanted to meet him. Some even went so far as to corner Grover and drown him in questions. He never said a word, because he is a good friend. I trailed some of the older kids as they traded theories, desperate for any word on the boy. Was he the one from my dream? What did he and Annabeth have a part of? Why did the Voice call them mine?

Then finally, the boy makes an appearance in the camp, walking with Grover at his side and a shoebox under his arm. He is immediately shuffled into Cabin 11, which makes some of the younger kids go: 'Nya-Nya! We got the cool guy and you don't!' I knew immediately who he was, but still the questions lingered, as they would for many years.

Eventually, Percy gets sent to the attic, and gets prophecy, then leaves with Annabeth and Grover. They travel west, to face the god who has turned, blah, blah, blah. You know this story already, so I won't waste your time. At camp, things got tense. Dark clouds circled all the time and thunder often shook the sky, but there was never any lightening, which made this even worse, waiting for the flash that would never come. Rain sprinkled off and on, which should have been impossible, but hey, if a God is pissed enough, anything can happen.

Chiron insisted we continue with our normally activities, and championed Percy as the saviour. The older campers muttered to themselves and shook their heads -they didn't think the trio would come back- but were cheerful around us kids. I kinda hated it. It made me feel small and untrustworthy. This was our problem too, we could help, but they had to give us the chance.

Anyway, Percy made it to the Underworld and back, and we made him that year's bead. There were a few designs to pick from though, including but not limited to: A toilet with a spray of water, a hellhound paw, a lightening bolt crossed with a trident, and a minotaur horn. Of course these were all over ridden for the simple trident-on-a-black-field bead you all know and love.

And just like you know all of that, you know how that summer ended.

I didn't know Luke very well, I mean, he was a Son of Hermes. Cabins don't mix much, unless it's for Capture the Flag. But everyone agreed, Luke would never, never do something like this. He would not steal Zeus's lightning bolt or Hades's helm. He would not summon a hellhound. He would not try to kill Percy with a pit scorpion. He would not abandon us for the Titans. He would not poison Thalia's Tree. He wouldn't kidnap Artemis and make her hold up the sky. He wouldn't do any of that, not ever.

But he did.

* * *

The summer of The Golden Fleece was the first time I'd ever been in battle, that most of us had ever been in battle. Sure we sparred, we played, and those who had lives outside camp fight monsters all the time, but not like this.

Monsters gathered in large groups, charging in whenever they wished. The guard rotation become a part of everyone's schedule, just another training exercise. We missed Chiron of course, and despised Tantalus, the new Activities Director. (Though I will admit, the Chariot Race was actually quite fun, until those killer dodos showed up.) He refused to send a quest, refused to call for aid, even though someone asked almost nightly. When Percy and Tyson arrived, we silently cheered. Surely HE could convince them to send a quest, we thought. And he did, well, kind of.

People were a bit surprised when Dionysus picked Clarisse, and not Percy. He'd saved us before, he was a hero. Clarisse was, well, she could be a bit of a bully sometimes, and had a mean streak a mile wide. But she was strong and smart and in her own way, cunning.

She left on a ship borrowed from her father, but left alone. Hours later, Percy, Tyson and Annabeth disappeared. Tantalus didn't want anyone to go after them, so they went and sailed all the way to the Sea of Monsters and rescued Grover and Clarisse from Polyphemus the Cyclops, stealing the Golden Fleece in the process.

At Camp, Tantalus grew even more sour, lashing out at anyone he thought was annoying, which was everyone. He even told Austin and I to stop making such a racket during Music Lessons. We promptly sang and played louder than before, which got us promptly suck on Kitchen Duty for a week. Other than his grouchy disposition and the lack of wise-old-centaurs, life around camp was basically the same.

Then the night came when a shining circle of mist and light appeared in front of Dionysus's table. Percy was there, and so was Luke, who had his back to us and was yelling about how he poisoned the Tree and made sure Hades picked Tantalus for parole and other terrible things. When Luke finally noticed us, he turned white. Dionysus simply waved a hand and Tantalus disappeared, making cheers rise from the Mess Hall.

A few days later, Clarisse arrived by cab to drape the Fleece on the Tree's lowest branches. Chiron showed up with his cousins and the rest of the heroes in tow only a few minutes later. It was very obvious what that year's bead would be.

It was stormy that night, which meant of course, I slept like a baby. I had no idea what a special night it was until the next morning when there was a dark haired girl at Table 1. Thalia Grace, Daughter of Zeus, was alive. And fifteen years old.

* * *

That winter was busy. Firstly, I had school work. As far as the state was concerned, I and the rest of the kids who stayed full time attended a private school that specialized in learning disabilities. I had just started middle school, which meant an increase in homework. Yay me. And Christmas was coming up, so Cabin 7 was working on our Holiday Recital. I had a piano piece to memorize, and four chorus songs and I was working on learning violin. I was al- Oh, you probably want to know about the quest, huh? My bad.

It was the first week of December when Grover sent in his report. Two demigods in Manie, strong. Siblings from what he could see. This merited the best: Annabeth, Thalia and Percy were driven up by Mrs. Jackson to retrieve the pair. And of course, things went sideways.

Annabeth was missing, the Hunters were at Camp, the Sun Chariot had crashed into the Lake (and Dad left without saying hello or goodbye) and there were two new demigods to train. Well, one new demigod. Bianca had chosen to become a Hunter, leaving her brother Nico to train with the Campers. The traditional Capture the Flag game was also a disaster, seeing as the Oracle decided she wanted to go for a stroll.

Four went on the quest, followed by Percy, making five, just as the prophecy said. From there it was waiting and hoping. Would they find Annabeth and Artemis? Would Thalia make a choice on her 16th birthday, as the Great Prophecy said she would? I was too young to realize how close we came to destruction.

I made a friend that winter. Nico di Angelo. He was a sweet boy, sincere, and he had so many questions. But I felt connected to him somehow, even without the stupid vision.

My father's Gift struck again, on December 15th. This time, it was Nico who stood in black and silver, wielding a dark sword, sheathed in shadow. The Voice was as cryptic as always. _He is Yours too, even more than the others, for he is the Mirror._ Just once, it would have been nice to have a straight answer.

I lost a friend that winter. Because when Percy and Annabeth came back, without Thalia, without Zoe, without Bianca, Nico lost himself. He plunged into those shadows and didn't look back. I guessed then who he was, as Percy and Annabeth did. Nico was a Son of Hades. A son of Death and Dark.

Life had to go on. Percy and Annabeth returned with news of Luke, and his plan to raise Kronos from Tartarus. It was final then.

We were at War.


	5. The Titan War

A/N: This chapter is the summary of BotL and TLO. It was a bugger to write. I'm not good at action scenes, big fights, ya know? But there's also some really heavy situations in here, which took days to write, they were just so emotionally draining. Anyway after this, I'm going to slow down quite a bit and each book will get about two chapters, depending on the length. (Also note that things will start to get farther and farther from canon as we progress through the series, eventually become completely canon-divergent after Blood of Olympus.) I'm estimating another ten or so chapters for this particular story, plus an epilogue to set up the next book.

Chapter 4: The Titan War

The events of winter left a lot of demigods shocked and tense. The loss of our friends was hard. What was even harder was listening to the older year-rounders try and explain that Thalia was a Hunter, that Luke was raising Kronos and building an army. Lee was so calm, sitting all of our siblings down, laying everything out. I could feel the bubble, the excitement, the promise of a new summer, the hope that Luke would come back, shrink, deflate and burst with a resounding pop. Faces fell, shoulders drooped. Summer was not off to a good start.

Demigods started leaving, either to avoid war or to fight on the other side. Most of them were from Cabin 11, the unclaimed. They knew Luke and they had reason to hate the Gods. I don't blame them. They were ignored, anyone could see that, and it wasn't fair.

We gained a new teacher, an older demigod named Quintus, who was a master swordsman. Quintus was an oddity, with his greying hair and long life. Demigods don't normally live long enough to worry about aging. But he was an amazing teacher; he pushed us and broke us and built us back up. He made us a team, a machine that was composed of many cogs. I suspected this was Chiron's way of turning us into an army, of giving us a chance against Kronos.

It was Quintus who came up with a new game for us to play. Hide and Seek. Silk packages on the backs of scorpion monsters, released into the woods, one with the golden laurels, the rest with nothing or nasty nasty surprises. Chiron paired us off, and in the end there were 25 groups of 2 sent into the deep woods.

I was paired with an Athena boy named Malcolm, a bit older than me. He had an excellent strategy: Follow some of the more powerful demigods, as they would attract more scorpions. I felt like a sneak, but winning sounded pretty good, Cabin 7 had been on the losing side of Capture the Flag for a while now. Malcolm showed me how to step quietly, balanced on the toes of my boots, quick small strides. We trailed Clarisse and her partner, Silena, for a while, but then spotted Percy and Annabeth. It was a silent look between the two of us, and we changed course to follow the Son of Poseidon.

We were near Zeus's Fist when the scorpions arrived. Five of them, all with silk packages tied 'round their middles. Malcolm and I take down two, slicing off legs, arrows to the heads. The package on mine was empty, but Malcolm sliced open his and released a foul smelling gas. While we were coughing and sputtering, the other three get by us and scuttle off. Malcolm was dazed and kept rubbing his eyes, and my head was spinning so fast it felt like it would fly off. It was time to throw in the towel.

By the time Malcolm and I get to the edge of the woods, it appears the game is won. Grover and Tyson, of all people, had the laurels skewed across their foreheads. Will takes one look at Malcolm and me, and directs us to the barrels of water by the Mess Hall. "Dunk your heads," He says. "Keep your eyes open to rinse them out. If that doesn't work come back and see me." With a wave, Will turns back to a pair of campers who are fused at the hip.

Dripping wet, Malcolm goes to join his cabin mates, and I join mine. There were plenty of nasty little curses in those packages, and it takes time to sort everyone out. Chiron keeps track of everyone coming out of the woods, nodding and smiling as each person comes out (mostly) unscathed. But as time passes his smile grows smaller and his brow crinkles. The Mess Hall is full of demigods, and they look around and start to whisper. Grover and Tyson finally get away from a mob of admirers. Their faces fall as they scan the crowd.

"Where's Percy and Annabeth?" Grover says, pulling the laurels and the flowers from his head. Tyson frantically looks left and right, his panic becoming more and more pronounced as Percy does not appear.

"Brother! I will find you!" Tyson tears off into the woods. In an instant, the demigods are on their feet, arming themselves once more and taking up torches. We will not leave our own in those woods, not after everything.

Malcolm and I quickly tell the others where we saw the pair last, and the search sweeps towards Zeus's Fist. We shout names, look behind bushes and up trees. It would be almost comical, this search seems like one out of a cartoon, if it were not our friends who were missing. When the group enters the clearing surrounding the rock formation, our shouts are answered.

"Here!"

"Down here!" Echoes from inside the rock, and a white hands appears from a small fissure. Malcolm rushes over, takes the hand and pulls out his sister. He calls for a rope, but Tyson brushes by, reached down and pulls Percy out by the back of his t-shirt. Neither are harmed, and neither says a word about how they had gotten into the rock, or why they had not just immediately climbed back out.

The next morning, the Counselors were called to a meeting. Lee came back with a fantastical story. The Labyrinth of Crete was here, in America. It was the reason for the quests that Chiron had been sending lately. Luke was trying to use it to get into Camp Half-blood, because there was an entrance in our backyard, the fissure that Percy and Annabeth fell through.

Annabeth got to lead a quest, and she picked Percy and Grover and Tyson to come with her. The would go through the Labyrinth and find Daedalus, the creator. If they could get him on their side, Luke would never be able to use the Labyrinth again. The four of them disappeared into the fissure later that day, and the rest of us got to work.

Activities were suspended. Classes were canceled. We had an entrance to guard.

Athena Cabin drew up plans for defense and offense. Hephaestus Cabin provided materials, weapons, tools and know-how. The rest of us shut up and took orders. Dig this hole. Build this structure. Sharpen these blades. Apollo Cabin were often up trees, checking sightlines for archer positions, or building said positions. Little platforms hidden by branches, just wide enough for an archer and a stash of arrows. When the platforms were built, we started making arrows and restringing bows and working on other projects.

By the end of the week, there were battlements and catapults and foxholes scattered all around the Fist, archers platforms in the trees and hidden ziplines for quick position shifts. Chiron started drilling us. How quickly could we get from our Cabins to the battlements? How quickly could we get into our armour? Could we find our way there in the dark? Soon we were fast, we could wake up, get dressed and find our way to our places in mere minutes. It was terrible and beautiful and sad. We weren't kids anymore, we were an army, and this was our base.

All this time, we heard reports of Annabeth and her quest, here, there, and everywhere. The Labyrinth was taking them all across the country, and we could only hope that it would eventually take them to Daedalus.

Then, Annabeth climbed out of the Labyrinth, alone and soot covered. Tyson and Grover had followed another path, because Grover had smelled Pan. She didn't know where they were anymore. But Percy- Percy was dead, she told us. Mt. St. Helens exploded, we'd heard that on the news, but Percy and Annabeth had been inside on an errand for Hephaestus. She had escaped, barely, and only because of Percy's sacrifice.

We held a wake on the beach, the pyre as close to the water as we could get it. Athena Cabin had been in charge of making the shrouds. They produced one of sea green silk, printed with blue tridents and a pattern of silvery waves. They laid it over the gathered driftwood, and Chiron set the flaming torch in Annabeth's hands. She was saying a few words, I actually think she might have shed a tear, when Percy walked up onto the beach.

If you think her reaction in New Rome was violent, you should have been there on that beach. Annabeth screamed, punched Percy in the gut, whacked him over the head. It took three of her brothers to pry her off him, and nearly five minutes of shouting from Chiron to get the rest of us calmed down. Percy was quiet through all of this, accepting the blows and the looks with a new calm. Something had happened to him, something that had left him changed, calm and contained in a way that was very much not-Percy.

Percy and Annabeth left Camp again, this time by car, and head into the city to find a mortal to lead them. Rachel Elizabeth Dare, daughter of a real estate tycoon, leads the two demigods into the Labyrinth. Everyone stared, wide eyed. The first mortal to be allowed into the Camp since before most of us had been born. The voice in my head made another appearance, though was less commanding and more wondering. _It could be her. It could be. Sister?_ Of course, it had to be something cryptic. When would this gift be helpful, I had to wonder. It didn't seem fair. If I had the gift of prophecy, then why couldn't I help? Surely it would be easier than climbing all those stairs and trying to unwrap layers of riddles.

The camp was back to normal. Class, training, drills, guard duty. The most exciting thing that happened was a sudden disappearance of Mrs. O'Leary, Quintus's hellhound. She vanished into shadow with a braying howl, and all Quintus did was smile knowingly. The sword master disappeared not long after, and we assumed he was either captured or defected. We had to carry on without him.

Days later, there are four pegasi in our skies. There are the questers, Percy, Annabeth, Grover, but instead of Tyson, Nico is astride the fourth. There is no time for hellos, war is at our door, and everyone is at their post. I meet eyes with Kayla across the clearing, on her own archer platform, her gaze flicks to the entrance just as the grinding noise starts. With only one more backward glance, long enough to see the four pegasi fly away and the questers scatter for cover, I draw my bow and fix my eyes on the fissure.

There's an explosions that rocks the trees. There's dust in the air, and people cough, distracted. It is in that instant that hell breaks loose.

So many things happen at once, it's only in hindsight I can distinguish the actions. The trees closest to the fissure are knocked over, and archers that had been hidden in them are crawling away, directly into the line of fire. Kampe, the dragon woman, stands on the remains of Zeus's Fist, brandishing twin swords. Behind her, giants armed with car-shields and swords bigger than me force the way open wider so the army can surge forward. Catapults fire, but the stones do nothing against the wall of advancing scrap. I pick out a few exposed bits, the flab of the arm pit, the peak of a collarbone, and sent arrows deep into flesh. Soon the air is full of arrows from both sides, and the masses of troops on the ground are to mixed to tell who is who.

I stay in my tree as long as I can, arrow after arrow is nocked, drawn, and fired. I'm afraid to go down there, afraid to die, afraid to kill a friend, afraid to take a human life. Even now, my arrows only go where they will draw yellow sulfuric dust and not red blood. _I can't do this. I can't. I'm not a warrior._

 _ **You must.**_ Roma's voice comes to me, harsher and more strict than before. _**You must.**_ That is all she says, but I can still feel her, a solid warmth. I'm down to my last quiver-full of arrows, and I know what I must do.

Shakily, I take the handle of the zipline, hold it firmly, and step of my platform into open air. There is no safety harness, there wasn't time, which makes this all the quicker. Halfway to the other tree, I release my hands-though every instinct yells NO- and perform a forward roll as I hit that ground.

From here on out, I am in the middle of the swarm. There are campers scattered around, I find one and guard their back. I run out of arrows, there are some lying strewn on the ground. Too soon though, my bow is ripped from my hands, how, why, what, I can't see, the dust so thick. I have my sword, it's so small, more like a knife in my bleeding hand. I cut myself? _The bowstring._

I stab, slice and jump. I lose my camper and find a new one, or is it the same one? Who can tell in this chaos. I am alone. I fight with a group, and we scatter to avoid a giant's club. I face a group of telekines. I am alone. When does this end? HOW does this end?

There is a scream, full of fury and fear and almighty rage. It drives an unrelenting spike of panic into my soul. _I want Roma!_ The little girl in my screams. I have fallen to my knees, ears covered and cheeks wet. There are no more monsters.

Will finds me not long after, I have pulled myself up and am trying to make sense of the sudden retreat. "It was the satyr. You know, the one from the quest? Um, Grover? He screamed and they ran." He is shaken too, all the demigods are. Not just from the scream, but from the battle. It was awful, it was blinding, it was soul destroying. You can hear those words being whispered from every mouth, even those berserker-warriors of Cabin 5.

Cabins form little huddles all around the field. They look around, hoping for their missing to appear alive. Will leads several other medics around the clearing, tending those who can be saved, closing the eyes of those who can't. Most people stand shocked, but those who are able are in a huddle around Chiron and the four questers and … Quintus? When did he get here? Why is he back?

The group isn't too big, fifteen at most. People shake his hand, people go in for hugs, people wipe away tears. He hands Annabeth a silver laptop, speaks a few words to the group, then turns to Nico. The two demigods share a long look before Nico presses a flat hand to the burn scar in Quintus neck. Quintus closes his eyes, his head lolls back and he crumbles into dust.

I know now, as you do, that Quintus was actually Daedalus, and his death caused the Labyrinth to collapse. But in that moment, my eyes were drawn to the opposite end of the clearing, to the rubble that was the entrance to the Labyrinth. Lee had been closest to the fissure, in one of the trees that fell. Where is he?

Before I know it, my feet have carried me to the Lee's tree. I follow the trunk, find the archers platform, the scattered arrows. The broken bow. The blood.

There is another scream, but it is not magic, nor is it full of godly power. It is me, begging my counselor, my brother, my friend to _GET UP GET UP GET UP!_

Lee does not rise. His eye do not flutter open, because they are glued wide in terror. In death. He is limp and loose, and he has no structure. Something squashed him onto jelly. Not the tree, because I can see where he stumbled away from it. It must have been a giant. All it would have taken was one step. I hope it died. I hope someone sliced it's head off. No… I hope an arrow, one of mine, one of Kayla's, one of OURS, was driven into its gut, punctured its stomach and made it die slow.

When my cabin found us, there are more tears than anger. They don't understand. It should have had to be death. It shouldn't have had to end like this. If someone, ANYONE had been brave enough to kill Luke before he made his army, none of this would have happened. If I could have been able to speak my prophecies, I could have told them how we would lose, who we would lose. It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not FAIR!

In my anger and sorrow, I didn't see my hands glow gold and scorch the ground, but revisiting that spot it's clear; two hand prints small but pitch black mark the spot where Lee died. This was the first time my powers showed themselves, and it would not be the last.

We wrap Lee in cloth-of-gold, tie him up with silver silk ropes. At the pyre, we lay his bow, broken, just as he was, down next to him. We sing a chorus in Greek, farewell, safe travels, until we meet again. Lee always loved sing with us, he called our sound a 'perfect sibling harmony'. It will never be the same now, not without our stable bass. Even now, we sound lopsided, out of synch. It's the worst sound I've ever heard.

There are other bodies, other siblings and cousins and campers burning tonight. There are ten fires, burning high into the night. There are shrouds of green and blue and grey and bronze, all dissolving into smoke. Smoke. It smells of death and decay, so unlike the sacrificial smoke during meals. Why does food get the honor of a gentle, calming scent, when people, children, smell so bad? It's the same sacrifice. They took our best, our oldest, our leaders. It was a sacrifice, because if they took the camp, they could take Olympus. It was in the God's names we fought, and in the God's names they died.

Trying to push forward was like pushing Sisyphus's rock up the hill. Up then down, down down down, then at the bottom again, you push even harder to get back up again. It didn't help that more and more people were disappearing, that war was around the corner, that Kronos now had Luke's body. Then there was the botched attack on the Princess Andromeda, the one that claimed Bekerdorf's life, and proved we had a spy in our midst.

You've probably heard about Cabin 7's little spat with Cabin 5. I'm not even sure what happened. Something about a chariot and spoils of war. All I could think was, if Lee was here, this would have been settled a long time ago. He was great at compromise. Michael Yew, the new counselor, wasn't making it any better. He could hold a grudge like nobody's business.

Camp was tense as a jack in the box spring, waiting waiting waiting. Demigods don't do well with waiting in the best of conditions, but now… We needed something, anything to do. We needed to avenge our dead, Lee, Beckendorf, everyone. They made it personal, and it would be bloody when we got our hands on them.

We spent the whole summer waiting, listening for news. We saw Typhoon, in all his stormy glory, work his way across the country. We watched the gods in their chariots, circle, circle, circle. They were in the same boat as us. Too small to matter, not strong enough to take him down. Not on their own. They needed Poseidon, they needed the minor gods. But neither would come, Poseidon because he fought his own war against Oceanus and the minor gods because they had sided with the enemy. It was torture, watching. We needed action.

Then it came. A call to arms. Get in the vans. Defend Manhattan. Kronos was coming.

Of course not all of us came. The Children of Ares were ticked, even though we gave them the chariot. And we were ticked that they hadn't just let it go. But we couldn't linger. We had a job to do.

When we arrived, Morpheus's spell had already taken hold. The mortals of Manhattan slept. This battle would not be witnessed by any who did not take part in it. Which is why, when we tried so many years later to come out of the shadows, to warn people of the coming darkness, no one believed us. There was no proof. I cannot help but think that that was somehow part of the plan.

Our plan was simple: The Titans could not reach the Empire State Building, they could not reach Olympus. We collapsed tunnels, barricaded bridges, moved mortals out of the way. Apollo cabin set up field hospitals, stashes of medical supplies. An entire hotel was commandeered for our use, demigods crashed on sofas and beds, in halls. Thalia and the Hunters arrived, but they were our only back up. We were only 139 teens, children, against an army of monsters.

The actual fighting was unlike anything I'd seen. The Battle of the Labyrinth had planted the idea of chaotic melee in my mind,where you couldn't tell who was friend or foe, what was up or down. The Battle of Manhattan was armies marching unrelenting towards guerilla warriors who shot hopelessly at the line, watching each man fall and be replaced in turn. I'll let you guess who was who.

I was guarding the Williamsburg bridge with my cabin when my powers decided to surface again. There was an advancing line of monsters, but behind, there were demigods, people. We had to watch our shots. Kill the monsters, wound the demigods. Percy and Annabeth arrived and with them we pushed back, back, back, to the other side, to Brooklyn. But we didn;t know. This was the bridge that Kronos lead his army down, this was the bridge that would decide the War.

We had to retreat. I turned and ran, but something big, I don't remember what, got behind me and picked me up and started to squeeze. _This is how Lee died_ , I thought. _NO!_

Light, bright and shining gold like the sun, erupted from my skin. The pressure of the monster's first vanished, as did all perception of noise, gravity and smell. There was nothing except burning burning burning light, and me at the center, feeling powerful and weak and free and trapped.

It when on for ages;it was over in seconds. The light snuffed out, and I was laying prone on the asphalt. Will picked me up, turned my face this way and that, shined his penlight in my eyes. He told me there had been an explosion, that Percy had collapsed the bridge, that I had been lucky. But Michael, Michael, Michael, fell when the river rose and swallowed the bridge. There were people searching, but all we could hope for was a body.

After that, there is a summit with our leaders and theirs. Prometheus offered Percy an ultimatum, Pandora's Box. Open it, let go of hope, and we would be spared. Or we could continue to fight, and we would lose and we would die.

The final day of the Battle of Manhattan dawn in the oddest way possible, in true demigod fashion. The statues of Manhattan awoke under Plan 23, and battled the enemy. A flying pig descended from the skies. The Party Ponies save the day by chasing back the enemy from the Empire State Building. We have to rescue Rachel from a helicopter. Hyperion takes a walk with Percy through Central Park.

Then finally the Titan's started their end game. They released a Drakon the only a child of Ares could kill, the spy in our ranks having told them that Ares had refused to come to battle. Our only hope was Sliena, who on the second day of battle was sent back to camp to try to convince the Ares cabin to fight with us. We were fighting a losing battle until the cry came:

"ARES !"

They came with Clarisse leading the charge in the flying chariot. She and her siblings attacked the Drakon, but something was off about her. She was hesitant, fumbling with her spear and armour. Then her helmet went flying. Perfectly coiffed blonde hair spilled out around a shockingly beautiful face that did not belong to the daughter of Ares.. Everyone paused, thinking, _Is that Sliena?_ In that moment, Drakon swipes at her with it's claws and she goes down. We learned later that she had been Luke's spy, and had brought Cabin 5 as a way to attone. I forgave her as did most of the camp, but some didn't

Clarisse arrived in time to hear her friend's last words, and in her rage, takes on the Drakon bare-handed. She strung the carcass behind her chariot and roared at the enemy lines for them to face her, all the while shining blood red with her father's blessing. But even with Clarisse in a full battle rage and 15 fresh fighters, we were losing.

We were forced into a tight half circle in front of the doors to the lobby. Layers and layers of demigods stacked on top of each other, the more seriously wounded in the back. We could not let them through, we could not let them through. Percy, Annabeth and Grover where up on the 600th floor, but the rest of us were here. Blades slashed, shields blocked, arrows flew between the cracks.

Kronos got by us, when we were divided. He stormed the lobby and took the elevator up with Ethan and a few others. The prophecy was going to be fulfilled and none of us were going to see it. The Voice shoke in my brain, louder than thunder. _No. You MUST see it. You must see how this ends, and to see how the next begins._ I float away from the battle, I can see my body as it fights, as Nico leads an undead army up from the underworld with his father, Demeter and Persephone, but my mind is elsewhere.

Up in the throne room, Kronos has found Percy. There is a gaping hole on the floor now, where Kronos's scythe crashed through. Percy locks swords with Ethan , and they exchange words, but I cannot hear them. Whatever Percy says it turns Ethan against Kronos. Ethan charges, swings his sword at Kronos's midsection, and brings it through with enough strength to slice a man in half. But the sword strikes Kronos, gives a terrible shuddering sherik and shatters into a thousand sharp shards, the largest of which buries itself in Ethan. He stumbles back, clutching his stomach, and collapses against a pillar. The Son of Nemesis is dead.

Annabeth tries to use her knife, the knife Luke gave her so long ago, but is knocked aside. Percy and Kronos finally met. Blows flash and wounds are dealt. Riptide and Backbiter cross, shake, twist and fly out of their master's hands, across the floor and through the hole.

There is a moment, a breath. Kronos is bleeding gold all over the floor, his eyes flickering. Percy isn't any better though, he's pale and his eyes are sunken and dark. But he does not bleed. He has not bled since the battle started. The whispers from the hotel, Percy Jackson is the new Achilles, must be true.

Annabeth screams, "Family, Luke." She shakes the knife, the knife on which a broken promise was made, in his face. "You promised!"

Blue over takes gold, Luke retakes his body, if only for a moment. "I can kill him." Luke says. "Give me the knife." The knife, the last weapon available in the throne room. It's a cursed blade, because of Luke's broken promise, the realization dawned on all of us in an instant.

Percy, Son of Poseidon, newly 16, takes the knife from Annabeth.

Percy, the Child of Prophecy, offers the blade hilt first to Luke.

Luke, the Hero, thirsts the Cursed Blade into his arm.

And I am sent spiraling back down to my body, where the rest of the Demigods are celebrating their victory. They've pushed back the Titan Army. They rush to the elevator, pack 20 kids in at a time. I join them, rushing down the causeway, into the throne room, stopping short.

Just as I saw, there is Ethan, slumped and ead against a pillar. There is Annabeth, knifeless, kneeling. There is Percy, closing blue eyes for a final time. There is Luke, brother, counselor, friend, enemy, Hero, dead. "We need a shroud." Percy says, the only sound, save for the whistling coming from the hole in the floor. "A shroud for the Son of Hermes."

* * *

There's a party on Olympus that night. Dancing and music and food for us, the victorious, the battle weary, the survivors.

I wander around, just on the edge of the crowd. I smile when someone looks, laugh when they joke, but I am not a part of this. What I'm looking for, I will not find here. I will not find my sister, my other half. But I can find the next best thing. I can find Apollo, and beg him for news.

He's at the very edge of a cliff, what might have been a balcony before this battle. "What a mess you've all made." He says, with his golden smile, telling me to laugh or else. I don't, because I can;t find that part of me that laughs anymore.

"I think I'm broken." I say. And when my father turns to face me, I hope he sees what I do. A shell of a 14 year old girl, whose mouth was made to smile and eyes meant to laugh, but both are empty. The girl staring back at him has seen death, and pain and war, and she can't handle it.

"And what do you expect me to do? Fix you? I have more pressing matters." Apollo sneers, turns back to the view of a broken Olympus. "Look. You see, my temple has fallen. I need someone to fix that, and then there's the issue of my chariot. The suspension is all out of alignment. And …" He rambles on and on and I back away. This can't be my father. This can't be the man who raised me.

There is a flash of gold, and I'm laughing, laughing, and dancing with will and Kayla. We won. We beat the Titans. This is our victory. I can't wait to tell Roma, she'll be so happy. I've seen Apollo, and he says we'll be together soon.

The party winds down, and we head home. By the time we arrive, Rachel Dare has taken on the role of Oracle. The Voice sang, _Sister. Sister, at last. Be her friend. Be her guide. We can learn together._

Later that night, Percy and Annabeth got thrown in the lake. And the next morning, the summer session was over, and everyone left with a new black-and-gold bead. The Empire State Building would remind us of the battle, and the names of our fallen will keep them forever in our hearts.

From then, it was back to school for us year-rounders. Life went on, and all I could do was wait for my time to come. But Chiron assured me as the year went on that things were falling into place. The time of the Greco-Roman was coming.


	6. A Lost and Found Hero

A/N: This. Is. So. Short. I'm so sorry. In the original version I had Alana following Jason, Piper and Leo around on their quest, (which was terrible 'cause it was just me rewriting the whole freaking book!) and once I got rid of that, there wasn't a  
lot to cover. But I did get to explore what might have happened in the gap between TLH and SON. You may have noticed that I've been... Avoiding Roma and Camp Jupiter. Fear not, she's fine, you'll see a lot of her in the next chapter. On with the show!

Chapter 5: A Lost and Found Hero.

A few months after the end of the 2nd Titan War, Percy disappeared from Camp. He'd been visiting for the weekend, and had headed back home to go to school, but never arrived. And across the continent, Jason disappeared overnight from New Rome. This you  
know, after all, you were there. But what you don't know is that I was glad.

I knew why they went missing. I knew it meant that the camps would come together, and I knew that would lead to seeing my other half again. After years of waiting, it was all falling into place. Today, writing this, I am ashamed. The pain you felt, the  
worry, the confusion, the despair, I saw none of it. I was selfish, and for that I owe you another apology. But I have little time to dwell, and the story must be told.

Winter arrived and with it came Jason, Piper, and Leo. The night you arrived, I had three more visions, like the ones before, with the Voice saying, _Them, they are a part of this too._ Your colors, sky blue, cream white, burnt orange, danced over  
my eyes and I saw you, as you are now, leaders, warriors. My friends. I hovered on the edges of your adventure, waiting, watching, hoping. Jason had seen my other face, Roma, and would recognize me, even with his memory wiped. I hated it. I wanted  
to tell you so badly what was happening, what I knew, but Chiron was always watching, reminding me that one slip could bring the whole plan crashing down.

The three couldn't stay long. Hera was captured and Rachel had spoken a prophecy that could only mean them. After gaining the trust and loyalty of Festus, they left, headed west. While the quest went on, Camp as always buzzed with questions and with hope.  
So many were sure you would find Percy and bring him home to us. I wrote and wrote and wrote in my journal, my eyes always ached from the strain of the visions. Every now and again, I would dream of your quest. I saw the cold North Wind and Medea  
and Minos. I saw Hera in her cage, Piper's father tied to the stake, and the face of the earth smiling.

The night before you arrived back at Camp, I woke in a cold sweat, walking across the green to Rachel's cave. Everything was shrouded in grey. I could not stop my feet. Green poured out from the gap in the curtain, mixing with the grey that shrouded me.  
Rachel sat in her three legged stool and whispered, _Sister. Oracle._ Rachel shuddered, and prophecy spilled from her lips.

 _Sunrise, the breaking dawn_

 _For the time to wait now is gone  
Circles waiting, circles lost_

 _Heal the second, know the cost_

 _Go now, Find your Nine_

 _And all the rest will fall in line_

I spent the next day puzzling over the details. I remembered what Apollo had said about the circles, and knew that I was well on my way to having nine friends, so far the voice in my head had selected six demigods and marked with blinding color. But who  
were the other three? What was the cost of healing the second?

Unfortunately, a wandering mind is not good for training. After the third time my bowstring grazed my arm and drew blood, Kaylatook the bow and told me to sit out. 'Where's your head today, 'Lana?"

That night, Jason, Piper and Leo appeared with a familiar swirl of rainbow power. They told their story, Leo even adding sound effects and his own improved acting, to make people laugh. Things had happened as I'd seen. The Boreads had nearly frozen them,  
Medea had nearly robbed them blind, Minos had turned Piper into gold. They'd freed Piper's dad and Hera, killed both giants, and discovered who Jason was. But they hadn't found Percy.

Annabeth was silent as stone when they said that Hera had taken him, and that he was probably in the Roman Camp. Everyone else held their breath. Would she explode, would she cry? But Annabeth, the warrior that she is, set aside her emotions and calmly  
stated, "We need to get to California."

Leo then smiled and lead us through the woods and to Bunker Nine. There on one of the workbenches sat Festus's head, and a crayon drawing. "A boat," He said, "A flying boat. With Festus as our masthead, guiding the way." Nyssa nodded, smiled, and the  
rest of the camp murmured. We had a plan. We could find Percy, stop Gaea. Save the world. Just another typical summer.

And, as you can guess, so began the building of the Argo II.

The chaos of fortifying our Labyrinth entrance was nothing compared to what was later called the 'Valdez Takeover'. Leo, now Head Counselor for Cabin 9, worked like a man on fire, shouting and sketching and not bothering to sleep unless Piper or Jason  
forcibly dragged him out of the bunker. The rest of us politely did what he asked, when he asked, and stayed the hell out of his way. We weren't told much, other than how soon he thought the Argo would be ready. Even when the Maenads appeared a few  
weeks into the project and Buford went missing with a vital engine part, most of us just went about our normal routine, because we didn't know.

Classes in the morning, training in the afternoon, followed by dinner, campfire, singalong and s'mores. Spontaneous moments still happened of course. Marshmallow fights at the campfire. Water balloons dropped from pegasi in the middle of a prank war.  
Apollo cabin put on a little musical for Christmas. Nights spentsleeping in the grass, watching the stars when the AC in the cabins was on the fritz.

The boat was finished only a few hours before sunset on the Summer Solstice. It was a huge thing, 250 feet long, with two sails, crossbow platforms, shields lining the deck. There were 8 cabins, one for each of the seven, and one for Coach Hedge, and  
several spare rooms for storage and extra guests. Fully stocked armory, medical bay, and mechanical room. But what interested me the most, was the stables.

Built with pegasi in mind, but would never be used, because pegasi don't like to be confined. They'd be empty for the whole trip and nobody would come looking. Perfect for a little stowaway-ing.

I hide my backpack in the stall farthest from the entrance, and go once more to plead my case to Chiron. I'd told him, over and over about my prophecy, begged him to send me with the Seven and Hedge. _Go now_ , the prophecy had said. A demand, a  
call to arms. I had to go, whether the rest of them knew it or not. Even if I was planning on leaving anyway, Chiron was my father figure, my friend…. Chiron. We respected him, cared for him, as he did for us. This was my last chance to get his blessing,  
his permission. I had to try.

I knocked on his office door, and came in when he said it was alright. "Chiron.."

Without looking up, Chiron said, "No, Alana."

"You don't even know what I'm going to say!" That's not true, I've made this request a dozen times before, and he probably has it memorized, just like I have.

"You leaving directly violates your father's wishes. He wants you to stay here, hidden and safe, until Gaea is defeated."

"But the Oracle says now!" That was childish, I realize, and try again. " I have to go, I'm sure of it."

Chiron looks up from his paperwork, and stares. "I know what you feel, and I know what the Oracle says. But I cannot give you my support in this."

That hurt. But I couldn't stay, not anymore, not another summer spent in 'safety' while others risked their lives. So I left Chiron's office and went straight back to the Argo, to thestables. I stayed there as the ship rose into the air, watched  
the Camp slowly disappear from the view of the bay doors. And just like that, we were off.

The journey to Camp Jupiter, and my sister, was calm and short. I hid in the stables, (which were clean thank the gods) and spent most of my time planning for what I would say when the Seven found me. And they would find me eventually. My only wish was  
that they did so after we reached New Rome and Roma.


End file.
